


Undisclosed Desires

by Calardes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hanzo plays Shogi, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28234812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calardes/pseuds/Calardes
Summary: An unexpected dream forced Hanzo to reassess his relationship with a certain cowboy.Now he could think of little else but how much he wanted to kiss him.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Hanzo Shimada & Hana "D.Va" Song, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 195





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mandddie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandddie/gifts).



> The "I had a dream about kissing you" trope. Title taken from a song by Muse.

Hanzo lay still in his bed as he tried to register his senses. It had to be quite early still, everything so quiet he could hear his own heart thrumming fast and hard. He stared blankly at the gray padded ceiling for a moment, a ceiling he woke up to for nearly every day of the past six months. It’s the same ceiling in all the other Watchpoint quarters — boring and innocuously standard. 

The dream he just woke up from was anything but. 

The image was almost too vivid for a scene so impossible, but Hanzo could still see the way McCree’s eyes focused so intently on him. The cowboy was wearing no hat but a wide grin, standing so close that Hanzo could feel the warmth of his breaths brushing against his face. He was holding the cowboy by the nape of his neck when he felt the man shift under his fingers, leaning down to close the little distance between them and then pressing a kiss. First to his cheek, a soft touch accompanied by light scraps of scruffy beard, and then to his lips — the sensation so unfamiliar that Hanzo almost staggered, but McCree gently held on to him. His touches, suddenly all too overwhelming then, had made Hanzo’s heart finally leap out of control and jolted him awake, leaving his head reeling madly from the dissipating scene. 

Hanzo slowly breathed in, another futile attempt at calming his mind, as the residual feelings from the dream were still startlingly fresh. It was a chaste enough kiss, but the emotion lurking beneath was impossible to ignore: there was an easy, unadulterated affection in the way that McCree had kissed him, in the way that Hanzo had moved against him in response—

It was most definitely too warm in the room. Hanzo hastily lifted the covers to stop his own thoughts, only to find himself not just covered in thin sweat but also half hard. 

He groaned irritatedly and glanced at the time. Like he had guessed, it was definitely still too early to start the day even for Hanzo, but he’s desperate for an immediate shower—If not for all the sweat and heat he’s feeling, his inappropriate arousal at the thought of kissing a friend could definitely use some cooldown. 

Hanzo jumped out of bed and quickly entered the shower stall. He shuddered involuntarily as cold water started to wash over him, chasing away even the last lingering thought of sleep. He stood still in the cold splashes until the spiraling in his mind had finally calmed down to a quiet spin. 

To be fair, he had woken up from far worse dreams before. Hanzo supposed there could be a somewhat logical reason for his dream, as he had very recently witnessed his own brother’s affectionate display with the good doctor, a stolen moment of intimacy that he surely hadn’t meant to intrude upon. 

The pair had been on the rooftop at sunset, a time when Hanzo himself occasionally visited the very location. He knew that he was walking into something the moment he had laid eyes on the couple, who, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice his intrusion. Genji was without his faceplate (which was unusual enough on its own) and sitting beside Dr. Ziegler. Hanzo had previously suspected their close relationship, but it was never something that he and Genji had talked about. 

Hanzo knew he should have retreated immediately, but the initial surprise had stunned him a moment too long — he happened to see his brother leaning close to press a kiss on the doctor’s hair, and the doctor had smiled brightly as she laced her fingers with Genji’s cybernetic ones. 

Hanzo wouldn’t pride himself on recognizing people’s feelings, but there was a tender happiness on both of their faces that was hard to miss, a carefulness to their simple touches that spoke volumes about how deeply they cared for each other. 

So no, Hanzo decided that it would not be completely unnatural for thoughts of intimate affection to slip into his own unconsciousness. Besides, McCree was a far cry from unattractive and, if he cared to admit, possessed a roguish charm that could be categorized as appealing.

Hanzo had rarely entertained the thought of being close, or even attracted, to another person. It has been this way for more than a while now, a fact that had never bothered him. The bond of intimacy might have been a necessity at one point of his life, being expected to form an alliance or produce an heir for the continuation of family glory, but it had never quite come to be a desire of his own, as other priorities had always crowded his mind. 

For the past ten years, especially, he stopped thinking about it all together. It was not an emotion he had allowed himself, when there was only room for bitterness and hatred in his heart.

By the end of his unusually long shower, even though he wasn’t sure why his dreamed-up affection took the form of a certain cowboy, Hanzo had decided that it was...nothing to be particularly concerned about at the moment. The dream had surely brought on some unfamiliar thoughts and feelings altogether, but Hanzo was certain they would disappear as swiftly and suddenly as they had come. He had never been one to seek deep meaning in a dream anyway—such triviality should not concern him in the reality that was.

As he started his daily routines, Hanzo did manage to put all thoughts of the dream behind him at first. However, by early afternoon, he couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t run into McCree even once today. Hanzo had observed that the gunslinger tended to keep a sporadic schedule, happy to be doing things as the moment had prompted, but he typically wasn’t one to miss lunch entirely. 

For some reason, not knowing McCree’s whereabouts had bothered Hanzo more than it logically should. He mentally kept track of everyone on the base and knew that there’s currently no mission planned for today or even the rest of the week, but perhaps there could have been an emergency situation that had required McCree’s presence? It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened. 

He pointedly ignored the impulse to call on Athena or grab anyone at the base to question the cowboy’s whereabouts and instead cleaned up slowly in the kitchen, waiting to see if the cowboy might finally decide to turn up for a bite.

Hanzo thought back to last night when he and McCree had another one of their shooting contests, trying to remember if the gunslinger might have mentioned his plan for the day. Hanzo recalled the banters after his own hard-won victory—McCree had taken his defeat with more grace than he seemed capable of, shaking his head almost incredulously while eying Hanzo’s bow. “I still don’t get how you do all that, you know?” The gunslinger had drawled, chuckling before looking Hanzo in the eye with a twinkle of challenge, “Bet you won’t be as lucky next time though, archer.” Hanzo had snorted but nonetheless pleased with himself at the moment. “Unlike you, luck was never a factor in my performance,” he had quipped back without missing a beat, a smirk tugging his lips.

When their little matches first started a few months back, Hanzo had learned quite a few things about the gunslinger. Despite his initial confidence in total triumph over McCree, Hanzo found them to be more evenly matched than he wanted to admit. It had turned out that McCree’s laid-back, devil-may-care attitude didn’t apply to the way he handled his gun. Within their very first practice together, he had immediately come to recognize that the cowboy’s aim was nothing short of admirable. Despite McCree’s various jokes and nonchalant statements about “being born a natural shot” or whatnot, Hanzo was certain that a skill like his couldn’t have come by easily without rigorous practice both in and out of the fields. The archer had every right to be proud over winning against a respectable opponent last night, and he was pleased enough to accept McCree’s offer for a quick drink before retreating back to his own quarters. 

He suspected that McCree didn’t stop at the initial drinks even after Hanzo had bid his farewell. As such, a more likely scenario would be that the cowboy was simply still lazing off somewhere, nursing a hangover. 

Hanzo snorted at the thought of a drunk cowboy and naturally remembered all the times that he had seen McCree drunk. He had to suppress the sudden urge to smile before feeling annoyed with the way McCree incessantly occupied his mind without even being there. 

With nothing else left to do around the kitchen, Hanzo went ahead and did the only thing that never failed to clear his mind—he trained as hard as he possibly could, straining and pushing himself over his own physical limit again and again until the dragons on his arm gleamed blue. 

After another shower, Hanzo had ventured outside just in time for the sunset. He had opted for the seaside cliff right outside the briefing room instead of his usual rooftop, just in case he walked into yet another moment between Genji and Dr. Ziegler. 

It’s been a rare day without any rain in the Gibraltar winter, the cloud-crowded sky already turning shades of orange and purple. Hanzo looked out at the sea and deeply inhaled the now-familiar salty air. He found himself enjoying these moments the most—completely alone in a familiar space, and nothing was demanded from him.

In retrospect, he should have realized that his peace would be short-lived. 

At first, he almost didn’t register the faint jingles of spurs, but as the sound of the cowboy approaching had become unmistakably close, his heart rate immediately picked up despite his own chagrin.

He frowned. It had absolutely no reason to be beating so fast. 

Funnily enough, after half a day of wondering where McCree was, he hadn’t expected to meet him here at all, when he’s finally at peace with himself enough to enjoy a good view. A wave of irritation washed over him when Hanzo realized just how undeniably pleased he was at the cowboy’s sudden appearance.

Hanzo breathed deeply once, twice, before finally turning to meet McCree. The cowboy was in his usual getup, an easy grin already on his face as he nodded at Hanzo. “Howdy, “ he greeted casually, not an ounce of hypothesized hangover in his voice, “Fancy seeing you here, partner.”

“McCree,” Hanzo nodded back before quickly turning his eyes to the ocean side again, “I should be the one saying that, given that you have not been around all day.”

McCree had already moved up closer, now standing next to Hanzo on the cliffside with a good few feet between them. “Heh, I guess I was out all day, huh? I’ve been out of these for a day or two,” He explained with a half-hearted shrug, deft fingers pulling out his cigarillo case and waving it at Hanzo, “Reckoned I could do us an early supply run for the week while I picked up some new ones.”

“I see, “ Hanzo said, realizing his earlier guess about McCree’s whereabouts for the day had been entirely incorrect. He heard a familiar soft clink of lighter before turning his gaze back to McCree, just in time to see the cowboy taking a deep drag from the newly lit cigarillo. 

Hanzo’s eyes lingered at the lips wrapped around the cigarillo for a moment longer than necessary, and he couldn’t help but think about how accurately his dream had captured their plush shape. Would they really feel as soft and warm? Or would they taste more like the cool sea breeze instead—

“Is the smoke botherin’ you, or you’re finally interested in tryin’ one today? I’ve got plenty to spare at the moment,” McCree said, interrupting Hanzo’s untimely thoughts. The cowboy had arched an eyebrow at him, his tone somewhat amused but not unkind.

McCree knew that the smoke didn’t bother Hanzo—a fact that they have established early on at one of their first encounters out here. The cowboy had certainly noticed his staring, and Hanzo knew he had to choose his reaction carefully if he didn’t want to give anything away. 

At last he managed to shake his head once and look away evenly, as if he was merely caught up in a random, unimportant thought, nothing relating to the smoke (or McCree’s lips, for that matter). 

But McCree didn’t turn away his gaze. Hanzo could feel the man’s eyes on him as he silently cursed McCree’s damn perceptiveness. 

“What’s on your mind then?” After a moment of consideration, McCree ended up asking curiously. 

“Nothing,” the archer first answered, but knowing that it couldn’t possibly have appeased the cowboy, Hanzo proceeded to add, “I was merely recalling a dream I had last night.”

McCree’s brows furrowed at first. “A dream? “ The cowboy repeated slowly before continuing, “What’s it about, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Hanzo understood immediately why McCree had looked almost concerned. It wasn’t the first time they talked about their own dreams, and the last time they had a conversation about one, the dream (or nightmare would have been the more appropriate word here) certainly hadn’t been pleasant in the very least. 

Hanzo had to swallow down a heaviness in his throat before he was able to answer. 

“You,” he said, surprising even himself in the answer before quickly adding, “but I hardly remember anything apart from that.”

McCree had also seemed genuinely surprised at first, and if the cowboy had his doubts about the second part of Hanzo’s statement, he didn’t let on at all. Instead, he huffed good-naturally and took his cigarillo between his metal fingers. “So you were just tryin’ to remember what happened in the dream?” he asked, “I kinda had to ask there, ya know, with the way you were lookin’ at me.” 

Hanzo felt his body stiffened at McCree’s words. “And _what way_ would that be?” He asked carefully.

“Like I was one of those damn practice bots before you put an arrow in it,“ McCree said in half joke and half seriousness, which had only made his comparison all the more amusing, “Hopefully you weren’t dreaming about pushing me down this cliff or something, ‘cause that’d be a real shame.” 

Hanzo couldn’t help but smirk at the cowboy’s remark, the tightness in his throat pulled at him once before slowly dissolving at McCree’s playful tone.

“Rest assured that my thoughts or actions will not be dictated by merely a dream, regardless of what it was,” Hanzo said, entirely aware that the determination in his words was directed more to himself than McCree, “Besides, I promise you that killing you would be the last thing on my mind.”

“Oh yeah? And why is that?”

“I enjoy beating you at shooting too much to want you dead,” Hanzo deadpanned. 

McCree had barked out a laugh right then, his entire face lit up by the last of the sunlight and undisguised amusement. The setting sun had nearly sunk below the sea level, tainting the fiery sky into a gloriously breathtaking sight. 

But Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to look away from McCree’s face, and his heart lurked traitorously at the thought that _he_ had been the one to make McCree laugh that way. Has he always looked like this? Hanzo wondered, or has that dream somehow made him see McCree in a different light now?

Hanzo’s finger twitched unconsciously, as an inexplicable desire to reach up and touch the lingering smile on McCree’s face had seized him. This very moment was strangely reminiscent of just the other day when he had caught sight of another pair under a similar sunset—well, this comparison was unreasonable, for sure, because that moment between Genji and the doctor had been a _different_ scenario entirely….

Ah. 

McCree’s lips were moving, and Hanzo finally forced himself to snap back, but it was just a moment too late. It would seem that he had somehow completely missed McCree’s clever comeback. He certainly wasn’t going to ask the cowboy to repeat himself, but Hanzo was also a little annoyed that McCree had gotten the last word without him even knowing what it was.

Thankfully the cowboy didn’t comment on Hanzo’s absentmindedness, but instead suggested that they head back in before it got too cold. Hanzo didn’t trust himself to utter a response. He had only managed to simply nod before swiftly turning away from the cliffside. Hanzo walked toward the Watchpoint in faster strides than usual, purposefully leaving McCree a few steps behind.

He really hoped that he had left all his unsolicited feelings there as well.

+

If Hanzo had imagined that all his idle, untimely thoughts involving a certain cowboy will go away at some point, that “some point” certainly wasn’t a day later. 

Or even a week later.

He didn’t dream about McCree again, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about him at all. Much to his irritation, he found himself assessing and re-assessing his interactions with McCree almost compulsively, as if to confirm a wildly improbable theory that had recently rooted in his head and refused to go away. He couldn’t be into McCree, he thought, but Hanzo struggled at coming up with other explanations for the way his mind was constantly occupied by the cowboy.

These thoughts came to him most often when he didn’t need to actively think about anything else, such as now, as he warmed up his shots in the practice range against a row of moving targets.

First thing about McCree: He was friendly with Hanzo. Hanzo was not the easiest person to befriend by a long shot, and he certainly knew it so. There were very little people in this world he truly considered as a friend. Back when he first joined Overwatch, he certainly was not used to working with other people on a mission. He was accustomed to employing stealthiness and fast, ruthlessly efficient ways of achieving his objectives, and the habits certainly presented a challenge as he struggled to operate with a team. Hanzo soon found out he worked better on smaller teams, and he remembered coming to that realization on his first recon mission with just one man--Jesse McCree. He had his doubts about the cowboy at first, but despite his loud appearance, McCree was a professional in the field with an incredibly sharp mind. His movements had a natural fluidity and grace that didn’t seem possible in such a large, bulky body. 

Surprisingly enough, McCree spent a fair amount of downtime being alone. Not that he didn’t enjoy being around people or even the center of attention, but Hanzo knew the kind of life McCree had led for the past few years could leave an effect on a person, and that was something he understood acutely. They didn’t talk much at first. Because of the activities they both tend to take part in, McCree and he ended up sharing the same space from time to time. 

McCree didn’t have any reason to trust him or be friendly with him, knowing what had happened between him and Genji, but the cowboy never failed to strike up a casual conversation with him. The man was all about “second chances,” as he put it one time. Hanzo didn’t mind McCree’s presence as much as he thought he would, and often responded to him, however reluctantly, in a way that could almost be considered civil.

It’s a surprise that they ended up being as close as they were now. Seeing his interactions with both the team and the enemies, Hanzo knew that the man was an expert at pushing people’s buttons, but that also meant he knew exactly when and where to draw the line, something that Hanzo had come to appreciate deeply about the cowboy. 

Hanzo evened his breath and nocked another arrow. He barely aimed as he released his shot—he already knew his position and the targets well enough to know that he would not miss. 

There was another thing Hanzo had noticed recently when he scrutinized their interactions--McCree never called Hanzo any sort of endearment that he so easily slipped out for his other friends. 

“I reckon it’s a southern thing,” the gunslinger had explained on one occassion when the topic had come up, between their usual exchange of whiskey and sake. Hanzo had hummed curiously and proceeded to mention how it was customary to address other people by their last names except for rare occasions, where the person was family or someone particularly close. And naturally, as old-fashioned as Hanzo was, he had never addressed anyone on the base by first name except for Genji.

“Darlin’,” he continued to hear McCree say, and “honey,” or sometimes “sugar.” He had heard these terms thrown around endearingly and also sarcastically enough times, but somehow none of them was directed at him. He always called Hanzo either by his name or “archer” or “partner,” although the last was not exclusive to him. 

Perhaps McCree didn’t find it appropriate to address him that way, but knowing him, propriety was probably the last thing on the cowboy’s mind. Hanzo thought, lips thinned into a surly line as he drew another arrow at the target, not quite sure if he was ready to categorize this as an indication for “absolute disinterest” from McCree. 

Well, this by itself might not be saying much, but then there’s also the fact that McCree never flirted with him. Friendly banters, sure, because that was quite literally how they communicated most of the time. But the cowboy had never given him anything that would resemble romantic interest, even though his charm was like a force of nature, something that oiled all his interactions--

Hanzo let go of the arrow that was drawn taut on his bow for far too long. The practice range door swooshed open as the arrow flew across the room and planted itself square on the head of a practice bot. An appreciative whistle soon followed. Hanzo turned his head to find the very person on his mind standing by the door, a smirk on his face and brown eyes readily on Hanzo.

Hanzo’s heart gave an unnecessary jolt as his eyes met McCree’s. He stubbornly held up the stare but lowered his bow, somehow fearing he might have trouble concentrating on holding up both. 

“What are you doing here this early?” Hanzo questioned. It was half past six in the morning, not a time when Hanzo would run into anyone else at the practice range.

“Well now, hello to you too, archer,” McCree sassed back, “I had an early morning myself. Was wonderin’ if you’d be up to a _real_ challenge today.”

“Please, if you are suggesting another one of those shooting matches with you, it hardly qualifies as a challenge, let alone a _real_ one,” Hanzo said dryly, a mirroring smirk now on his face. The banter came easily, but Hanzo was not ready to continue engaging the cowboy. In fact, if that’s what McCree had in mind, Hanzo had planned on turning it down. He could always return later to finish his training, without the distraction, that was.

“Talks like someone who’s afraid of losin’,” McCree drawled easily, but there was no real heat in his goading. “But actually, I was thinkin’ about doing a co-op training with ya today. What do you say, partner?”

Hanzo had frowned slightly, finding a genuine invitation from McCree surprisingly harder to refuse than a feigned challenge. A co-op training was not something they haven’t done before, although it typically involved more agents in the stimulation. 

He hesitated for a second too long for any rejection to sound natural.

“What has suddenly piqued your interest?” 

“Believe it or not, your brother actually challenged me to beat his training record just yesterday. Told him I knew just the man to partner up with and do just that,” McCree said with a wide grin.

Hanzo raised one eyebrow at that but wasn’t entirely surprised by the cowboy’s reasoning. They were indeed good partners in the field, or had come to be, at least, but his heart still warmed a little at the thought that McCree had chosen to ask him than anyone else. A recognition of his impeccable skills, for sure.

“Fine, but only because you have no chance of winning on your own.” 

“Hah, I knew you wouldn’t leave me hangin’, partner,” McCree smiled easily, clearly satisfied with Hanzo’s answer.

The two of them put on training vests that were used to count the damage they received in the session and went over their equipment once before McCree had asked Athena to begin the co-op training session. 

The goal was straightforward in the training: They needed to go through a set course of obstacles to approach the objective point and stay on it long enough to capture it. At the same time, they should strive to get hit by the bots as little as possible, since it also factored into their final score, along with finish time and total damage inflicted on enemies. 

The training began after a short countdown. The two of them shared a brief glance before jumping right into the course. McCree had gunned down two bots without missing a beat in between right as Hanzo put an arrow in one approaching them from the opposite direction. 

They moved carefully and swiftly, avoiding paths with wide open space. Hanzo lagged a few steps behind, climbing onto higher platforms and surveying the area while McCree remained on low ground where more natural covers were available to him. 

“Your six, McCree,” Hanzo had shouted out a warning, as he finished off a bot in his own path. It was easier for him to watch McCree’s back higher up, but very occasionally it meant that the cowboy had to fend for himself if Hanzo was also facing imminent threats.

“Thanks, partner,” The gunslinger swung around and put a bullet in the bot that had tried to sneak up on him, and then looked up at Hanzo, eyes bright and smiling.

They worked in tandem like a well-oiled, ruthless machine. With such different personalities, they still shared a taciturn understanding in surprisingly many things. Such as the fact that they both put reasoning and thinking above emotions and pointedly never let the latter affect their decisions in the fields. 

There was another thing Hanzo had come to know about McCree from them working together: He was often incredibly good at reading a situation in the field and reacting to it. Hanzo himself had been saved more than once by the cowboy’s quick thinking. Somehow he gathered it was not just the years of experience McCree had at play; the man had a natural, almost uncanny instinct at cleverly maneuvering his way around a tricky situation while Hanzo typically relied on past experiences and training, also extensive research of the enemies if he could help it. Not knowing or having control of the situation bothered him more than it ever did McCree, and in a way, he supposed, this was what made them such a good team at times.

Hanzo jumped across the air and landed on another high platform, turning back just in time to take out the two bots on the ground level, both had just started to aim at McCree. The cowboy cleared another three guarding the last entry point before reaching the objective area. Their progression through the set course was swift, each taking out numerous opponents with undivided precision. Not too many words were shared between them, as they now were more than familiar with each other’s fighting style and way of thinking.

It had always felt like this with McCree, Hanzo thought quietly as he jumped down to join McCree on the ground to pass the narrow gateway where there was no pathway on high ground. They both had to walk down different paths, looking at different views, but somehow they still ended up going in the same direction--in this training and life both. Truth be told, Hanzo never gave these things any thoughts until very recently, as he found that he could think of little else.

They both spotted the last bot approaching right as it disappeared momentarily behind a convenient cover, but before McCree could go around to get a good shot angle, Hanzo had already scaled up the wall and whirled around in the air to give the bot a deadly shot using the higher vantage point. 

The short beeping sound immediately signified the end of the simulation as Hanzo landed on the ground. The archer looked up to find McCree’s eyes already on him, his mouth slightly agape. 

“That was goddamn beautiful, Hanzo, ” McCree blurted out, in a voice that made Hanzo’s ears grow a little too warm. Thankfully, he could still blame it on the physical exertion.

“No time could be wasted if you wanted to win a challenge against Genji,” Hanzo said, decidedly not looking at McCree’s face. He didn’t think he could take looking at that fervent expression for a second longer. 

“Heh, you’re probably right,” McCree agreed and finally lifted his eyes from Hanzo, “Athena, how did we do?”

“Congratulations, Agent McCree and Agent Shimada, you now hold the best record of duo co-op training simulation program 21,” Athena’s voice responded as a scoreboard showed up on the holoscreen before them, listing their names and scores. McCree had caused more damage than Hanzo, but the latter received less hit on the training vest. Their total time spent was mere seconds lower than Genji and Zenyatta’s record time. 

“I knew it! They stood no chance against us, partner, ” McCree chuckled smuggly, and turned to look at Hanzo again.

McCree moved a few steps forward, and it left them standing a little too close now. The little distance between them unavoidably reminded Hanzo something else that had been lingering on the back of his mind for the past few days, and he wasn’t sure when he had started holding his breath--

McCree raised his hand, only to give Hanzo’s shoulder a gentle pat. “Now, tell me, how would you like me to thank ya?” the cowboy had asked.

Hanzo swallowed at the unexpected touch on his bare shoulder that had lasted only a brief moment. He wasn’t sure if he had imagined the gun calluses on McCree’s palm grazing over his skin. 

A friendly gesture. Nothing more, and nothing less, Hanzo found himself thinking almost bitterly. He looked up at the gunslinger, and the man’s expression was almost innocuously open, expectant of an answer. And yet somehow, only at this moment had he truly realized how differently the reality would pan out from his own dream.

“That will not be necessary,” Hanzo answered in a low voice, subtly taking a step sideways in pretense of checking on his bow to get out of McCree’s space. A sickening wave of desire knocked the wind out of his lungs and made him breathless. However small the distance between them had seemed, it was a space that will never be closed. 

Days of thinking, assessing, and denying had finally come to an inevitable end. Hanzo thought with a sinking sensation in his stomach that almost resembled pain. 

He knew exactly what he wanted then, just the way he knew it was nothing McCree would be able to give.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not unusual for Hanzo to shut off his emotions completely; in fact, it had always been easy for him to do so--That was, until he saw McCree again. And his stupid, stupid smile whenever he greeted Hanzo.

Falling for someone he worked with was a terrible idea. He was certain that he had never quite felt this way about anyone else, and he wasn’t foolish enough to hope that the feelings would vanish as suddenly as they had come, so he figured out a plan to avoid McCree as much as possible until he felt under control again.

Hanzo thought of this as a defense mechanism, when the threat of failure was too prominent to strike. He had briefly considered being forthcoming with McCree and end his torture altogether, but the thought of McCree politely turning him down with _pity_ in his eyes was even more unbearable. The knowledge itself would have Hanzo at a disadvantage that couldn’t be easily reconciled.

It was hard to believe that just a few days ago he had felt nothing but a sense of camaraderie toward McCree, and Hanzo had started wondering if he had missed something this entire time.

The archer had to change up his daily routine so that he would visit the facilities at times he knew the cowboy would be otherwise occupied. He also made it a rule to not avoid McCree in group settings. With at least a few others to divide McCree’s attention, he could at least manage to make it seem like nothing unusual was going on. These moments were almost bearable, if McCree didn’t look back at him whenever he’s telling an incorrigible joke, like he had expected, or hoped, to gain a small smile from Hanzo. And Hanzo would be caught staring, unsmiling, because the thoughts on his mind were anything _but_ funny, realizing that he had both dreaded and longed for McCree’s attention on him with equal fervor.

It was hard at first, but between more frequent missions, especially ones where they were not teamed together, the avoidance almost seemed natural rather than intentional. If McCree had noticed anything, he didn’t seek out Hanzo to confront him, or bang at his door incessantly to demand an answer, which Hanzo was secretly grateful for.

Hanzo found himself spending most of his down time along again. It had almost seemed like he was avoiding everyone instead of just McCree. Perhaps this was better--the cowboy now would have no reason to be outright suspicious. 

Early spring had brought kinder weathers to Gibraltar, and Hanzo found more opportunities to venture out on his own. There was a shortcut he had liked to take, close to the second floor medbay, a typically quiet place unless after a particularly disastrous mission. Hanzo had only been passing through when he spotted his own brother coming out of the medbay door. It seemed like Genji had noticed him immediately as well--his step froze mid-air, like he had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“Hello, brother! I was just about to look for you,” Genji greeted cheerfully, albeit a little strained.

“Genji,” Hanzo nodded curtly in return, frowning slightly as he eyed the medbay door again, “Are you unwell?”

“Uh, no, actually. I was just visiting Angela, ” Genji answered, his modulated voice managed to sound almost embarrassed at the admission. 

Now that made more sense. Hanzo arched an eyebrow at his little brother, a small smile made its way to his face. “I see, ” he said, voice borderlining teasing. He then added as an afterthought, a little more genuine this time: “You two seem happy together.”

Genji chuckled and nodded. “We are, brother, ” he agreed without hesitation before continuing, “You know, it would be nice to see you allowing yourself the same happiness.”

Hanzo had tensed up involuntarily at the remark, the smile slowly disappeared from his lips. Genji’s tone had been playful, at best. He could not have possibly noticed anything, Hanzo thought placatingly.

“It would not matter,” Hanzo said in the end, “If the other person does not care for the same thing.” He was not one for self-deprecation or self-pitying, but he was not blind of the truth either. Hanzo had no illusion of the man that he was, and, without his money and stature, he had little to offer as a lover at this point. Surely he couldn’t imagine himself to be the most attentive or affectionate partner that one should hope for. It almost _makes sense_ that McCree wouldn’t desire him in the same way.

Genji’s quick retort made Hanzo immediately regret his own words. “Oh? Are you saying there is someone on your mind already?”

“No!” Hanzo blurted out with a little more force than he intended, but this was not a conversation he had wanted to have with Genji, let alone in a public corridor where anyone could pass by any moment (despite them talking in their native tongue). “No, I mean, ” Hanzo tried a little slowlier, attempting to make himself sound more reasonable now, “I merely see no reason for anyone to desire such a relationship with me.”

Genji was quiet for a moment and raised a hand to signal that they continue to walk together. “That is not true, Hanzo,” Genji said, his voice had lost every last bit of teasing. If he had his faceplate removed right now, Hanzo was sure that he would see his brother frowning. “And one’s heart hardly sees _reason_ in such matters.”

It was Hanzo’s turn to frown again. Genji’s remark sounded awfully like something that the omnic monk would say. However, he felt his mood sour not just because of that but also how true these words rang with his recent experience on the very matter. 

His face must have darkened visibly because Genji was already eagerly changing the subject before Hanzo could think of a proper response: “Anyways, brother, that was not what I had wanted to talk to you about.” 

“What is it, then?” Hanzo said, voice still a little irritated.

“Well, I was cleaning up the rec room closets with Mei the other day. There were quite a lot of games left by previous agents,” Genji’s voice was suddenly excited, “And guess what I found?” 

Hanzo furrowed his brow and shook his head at Genji’s question, not deigning it with an actual guess. 

“A Shogi board!” Genji announced with full-on glee. Hanzo didn’t expect to be surprised or interested, but it was still unusual to have found this game so far from home. 

“That is...most interesting. Are you suggesting that we play?” Hanzo asked.

“Of course, brother, why else would I bring it up?” Genji questioned cheekily, and Hanzo only just noticed that he was, in fact, being led to the rec room. 

Seeing the wooden board had brought nostalgic feelings to Hanzo’s mind. It was a game that Hanzo had played in his youth, with his brother as his most common opponent, sometimes his father. He found great satisfaction in the game at the time, as it exercised his mind in strategizing and planning attacks, something he was immensely good at. He had never thought to play this game again after Genji’s death, but somehow life had found a way to surprise him. The nostalgia was not followed by an immediate wave of bitterness, for once. A small mercy he wasn’t sure he deserved. 

It had turned out that the Shogi set was not only old and battered, but also missing four pieces (one gold general, one rook, and two pawns), so they went down to the workshop and borrowed some wood chunks to make their own. The pieces were finished with Hanzo’s calligraphy writing on all four, black ink on one side and red on the other. 

They played in a corner of the rec room, mostly abandoned at this hour. One game turned into two, and soon enough Hanzo found himself asking his brother for a rematch the next day. Genji had never been the best player, but he seemed content to play and more patient than when they were younger. Hanzo enjoyed playing with his brother and secretly appreciated the fact that they could spend time together without getting into an actual argument, but he still sorely missed the company of a certain cowboy. Funny how he was trying to avoid the person at all cost but at the same time craving his very presence. He wondered if the cowboy would find him here in the rec room, in the middle of a heated match, where he was in no position to escape.

As the game stretched on, someone did enter the rec room and caught them playing the game, but rather than whom Hanzo had hoped (and dreaded) to see, it had been D.Va who approached their corner table. Instead of teasing them for playing “an old man’s game” like Hanzo had initially expected, the young girl in fact showed nothing but intrigue, attention focused on the board as they each took turns to move the pieces, asking about the movement rules here and there. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” D.Va blurted out as Genji gingerly moved his rook, face serious and entirely absorbed in the game that she had forgotten the fact that she probably shouldn’t be commenting on an ongoing match, “What’s going to protect your silver general here?” 

The two men both paused in their movements, simultaneously throwing her a surprised look. Hanzo was more impressed than annoyed because he was thinking about the exact same thing, having laid a trap for Genji a few steps ago. 

“Oops, ” D.Va seemed to have just realized she had said her thoughts out loud, looking back at the Shimada brothers sheepishly. Genji was clearly amused, chuckling nonchalantly. “Didn’t know you would be into Shogi, Hana. I had pegged you for a video-game-only type,” he said.

Seeing that neither of the Shimadas was upset by her comment, D.Va shrugged easily and relaxed again. She wasn’t afraid of them, that much Hanzo could tell, but she also didn’t seem keen on the idea of intruding either. “I’ve seen people on my team play it once or twice. Never tried it myself, but it seems interesting enough.”

“I guess it can be quite fun, if your opponent isn’t constantly slaughtering you in every game,” Genji said with a fake sigh, which Hanzo only huffed at. 

“Would you teach me how to play?” D.Va asked. It took a moment before Hanzo had realized that the question was directed at him instead of Genji. Hanzo looked up at the young girl with expectant eyes and hesitated visibly. 

“Come on, brother, it’s time that someone else gets absolutely demolished instead of me!” Genji teased.

“Are you suggesting that once I learn how to play properly, I will be beating your brother all too easily?” D.Va had turned to Genji with a grin. 

Hanzo found himself amused at her words and shook his head slightly. “Fine. I shall teach you,” he agreed at last, pointing to an empty seat next to their small table, “Sit. This game will be over soon.” He eyed the Shogi board first and then Genji, with a smile on his face that looked like he had already won the match. Genji, sparing a glance at his brother’s face, suppressed a groan that had sounded awfully like defeat.

+

With how often he kept an eye on the mission roster, Hanzo was one of the first people to know that McCree had taken up a covert solo assignment for an entire week. It was one thing to avoid the cowboy on his own accord, but it was another matter entirely to know that he would not be able to see him even _if_ he wanted to. Despite knowing that the gunslinger was more than capable of taking care of himself, Hanzo still couldn’t shake the dull worrying buzzing at the back of his mind, so much so that D.Va had to ask him a question twice when they were playing Shogi together. 

He limited checking with Winston or Athena for McCree’s update to only twice per day. Winston was amused that this was the only op that Hanzo was so invested in, to which he had to respond that McCree was without any backup, and he would like to be ready should he need it. He wasn’t sure that Winston was convinced at all. After that awkward (mostly on Hanzo’s part) conversation, Hanzo inquired Athena only about McCree’s status. Thankfully, his new routine of teaching D.Va Shogi every day was a good enough distraction. Despite her impatience at times, Hana was quickly becoming a worthy opponent. Hanzo not only enjoyed Hana’s company (much to his own surprise) but also found her especially aggressive tactics refreshing and sometimes amusing.

When McCree finally returned, Hanzo was just starting a game with Hana in the rec room. He felt his comm buzz in his pocket and had to excuse himself for a moment to read its content. He couldn’t resist quickly skimming through the report to know that the gunslinger was successful in his mission and _uninjured._

Hanzo let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and glanced up to find his young opponent looking at him quizzically, arms crossed in front of her chest. The archer shook his head at the unasked question and tucked his comm away. “A mission report I had been waiting for,” he said as he felt like he owed Hana that much explanation, “Shall we continue?” 

Hana arched one eyebrow at him and looked like she wanted to ask more, but much to Hanzo’s relief, she had only shrugged and focused back on the shogi board, eager to resume their game.

The thought of McCree being back on the base again had distracted Hanzo for half a game, which led him into an unexpected state where he could be easily beaten if he were not careful. 

In fact, Hana’s play had gotten Hanzo pondering over the next step so deeply that he had almost missed it when a figure approached them from the rec room door. He had heard the soft jingles of the cowboy boots first and tried very hard not to flinch at the painfully familiar sound. He had known that it was McCree without having to look, but he had made the mistake of looking up nonetheless. A sharp pang jabbed at his heart the moment he met the cowboy’s eyes. He looked tired but freshly showered, damp hair under the cowboy hat still clinging to his neck. It had grown longer now, Hanzo realized. For some reason, Hanzo had an uneasy feeling of being caught under the scrutiny of these brown eyes and forced his eyes back to the board without further acknowledgement of McCree’s presence. 

Hana eyed him before turning around to say hi at McCree and ask him how the mission was. Hanzo immediately knew that he had made a mistake, but it was already too late to try to greet McCree again without being odd about it. 

“What have y’all been up to?” McCree didn’t comment on Hanzo’s lack of acknowledgement but instead drawled, eying the Shogi board curiously over Hana’s shoulders. 

“What I always do,” Hana answered easily, “Defeating the master at his own game.” 

Hanzo snorted at her response but still found himself half smiling. “The only game you are winning at right now is talking big,” he retorted without missing a beat. They were the first words that he had uttered since McCree got here, but had nonetheless earned him a quick, bark-like laugh from Hana. The two Shogi players continued to quip back and forth for a few more moments, until Hanzo was acutely aware that McCree, the typically good-humored man that he was, had fallen unusually quiet. 

After moving his piece, Hanzo finally sneaked a glance at McCree, only to find the cowboy staring at him again. It was a strangely charged look, like a suppressed frustration mixed in with confusion and something else that Hanzo couldn’t read at all. He had never seen McCree looking like this before. His eyes were darker than usual under the brim of his hat, but the most unusual of it all was the way McCree flinched as they made eye contact, as if he was the one caught off guard by Hanzo. The cowboy swiftly looked away and schooled his expression back to neutral.

“You should sit if you’re gonna watch us play, McCree,” Hana said, pointing to a chair next to their table. The one that Hana had once sat in to watch Hanzo and Genji play.

An indescribable tension had flashed in McCree’s eyes before he cleared his throat. “Ah, no, I was actually on my way to meet Winston,” McCree _almost_ stuttered when he responded, which had earned him a look from both Hana and Hanzo, “for the, uh, mission debrief.”

“Aww, now you’re going to miss Hanzo’s defeated face!” Hana half joked, as she placed a ruthless counter attack at Hanzo’s (unfortunately) absentminded play.

“Heh, can’t say I’ve ever seen that before. Must be hell of a sight,” McCree finally smiled a little as Hanzo grunted at his remark, a smartass comeback already on the tip of his tongue. 

For a brief moment, it was almost like they were back to the way they were before, ready to banter away at stupid little things. But then their eyes had met again. This time McCree’s eyes have softened, warmed inexplicably by his smile, as if he was actually trying to depict a frustrated Hanzo in his head. Hanzo’s heart gave a flippant tug, and everything he had wanted to say was entirely, irrevocably forgotten. 

McCree looked at him for another second, expectant of an answer that never came as silence fell between them again. Hanzo could only think about how he had never felt this _clumsy_ with his tongue.

“Well now, you two have a good one,” McCree finally broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence as he tipped his hat once, turning to stride away without looking at Hanzo again. The archer hadn’t even thought to respond before McCree was already disappearing at the rec room door. He had the distinct feeling that he had missed something in that short interaction as that strange look on McCree’s kept coming back to his mind, but Hanzo couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

“It’s your turn again, _Shimada-san_ ,” Hana said in a sing-songy voice, drawing Hanzo’s attention back to the Shogi board. He might have been looking at the door and pondering over the little encounter for a little too long. “Don’t think I will go easy on you just because you were distracted _.”_

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hanzo tried his best not to look flustered, but the look that Hana was giving him was a clear sign that his effort had failed, epically. 

“I mean, what was all _that_ about?” Hana eyed the now empty doorway again before staring back at Hanzo with big, questioning eyes. Hanzo shook his head in confusion, not too sure what she had meant.

“The guy clearly came here to talk to you, but you barely said a single word to him,” Hana said shrewdly. Hanzo frowned in concentration, combing through the interaction in his head to find that indeed to be the case. 

“He might have...come to ask to share a drink with me, ” Hanzo suppressed a sigh and surmised drily, remembering the unspoken post-mission tradition he and McCree had, “but as I was engaged in a game with you and unlikely to leave, he might have deduced my answer.”

“And? Did something happen? It felt like you guys stopped hanging out or something, ” Hana asked blatantly, voice perfectly neutral. Hanzo was not irritated or anxious like he thought he would be by the question. He and Hana never talked about their teammates much, and definitely not about McCree. It was unlike Hana to gossip with him or pry, so Hanzo knew she must have asked without any ill intent. 

“Nothing happened,” Hanzo said carefully. Except for a stupid dream that had ruined everything. Except for the fact that he couldn’t stand being with McCree for five minutes alone without feeling blaringly, obnoxiously out of control. 

“If you guys had a fight or something, you should definitely talk it out,” Hana suggested matter-of-factly, clearly not taken with Hanzo’s words.

“It was nothing like that,” Hanzo found himself pausing slightly, not certain how he wanted to continue this conversation, if at all. “I just needed some time to myself,” He settled with that in the end and was not going to say anything further. The real reason behind his avoidance was not only a private thought, but also a bitter one, something that he was unwilling to share with anyone else.

“Really? And does he know that?” Hana asked a little cheekily, and then her eyes suddenly went wide as if struck with an idea, “Wait, did you refuse his advances and give him space to move on? Is that what happened?”

“What? No!” Hanzo denied indignantly. It was a speculation too wild and too opposite of what had actually happened that Hanzo did nothing to hide his shock. He imagined Hana knew that it was unlikely to be the case, but still decided to say it anyway. Hanzo paused briefly to recollect himself before continuing, “How could you possibly come to such an idea?”

“The guy looks at you a lot, you know, especially when you’re not looking. Can’t blame me for thinking that he likes you,” Hana said it in a way like it was obvious, which had only made Hanzo want to laugh at the idea. A feeling too much like hope tasted bitter on his tongue, and that urge to laugh died out just a moment later. 

“I am sure he would have taken much more obvious actions than _looking_ had he been interested in...anyone,” Hanzo didn’t even use the word “me” at the end of his sentence. It was a little too much to even entertain that thought right now, when he didn’t have the luxury of privacy. 

Hana hummed as if to think on that as well as her next move on the Shogi board. “Maybe he’s shy around you?” She suggested in a voice that was both a little amused and tentative. Hanzo thought he knew where the amusement had come from. Imagining McCree and the word “shy” being in the same sentence was funny enough, and the idea that the usually all-too-confident cowboy being shy around someone like him was near a hysterically hilarious thought. 

Hanzo eyed Hana and found her having possibly quite the same thought as they both burst into a fit of laughter despite everything. And somehow, for the first time in a while, that tight feeling when he thought of McCree was no longer so unbearable.

+

Their daily Shogi matches lasted until Hana had to go back to Seoul for the good part of a week, during which time Hanzo had attempted to meditate with his brother instead. There was also one time when McCree walked in on him practicing at the target range, although the moment he drew near, the archer had conveniently claimed that he was done for the day and slipped out of the door without another word. He felt the weight of McCree’s eyes on him as he exited, but the cowboy had not come after him. Before the door swooshed shut, Hanzo thought he heard a sigh and wondered if he had imagined it all the way back to his own room. 

Somehow, the thought of having upsetted McCree got Hanzo’s heart twisting in a way far worse than when he had to endure the cowboy’s presence. Perhaps it’s not worth it, Hanzo caught himself thinking. McCree hadn’t done anything to deserve being avoided like the plague just because he wasn’t able to return Hanzo’s feelings. Perhaps he should try at least being civil with the man the next time they were alone, he decided, already thinking that he would soon regret the idea.

When Hana came back from her trip to Seoul, she had joined the team at dinner as soon as she returned to the base. Everyone greeted her enthusiastically, and even Hanzo had spared her a smile and a “welcome back” when the girl grinned at him. 

Hana had chosen the seat between McCree and Oxton and across from Hanzo. She had barely sat down before she started passing around small trinkets she had brought back for everyone. At last, Hana managed to catch Hanzo by surprise with a flat box thrown in his way. The archer had caught it instinctively before it could fall into his bowl of rice and eyed the package curiously.

“Got us an actual set that’s supposed to last a little better, old man,” Hana explained eagerly just as Hanzo realized that he was holding a Shogi set, one that Hana had brought back from her trip where such a game was probably more easily attainable. The set they had been using was indeed in deteriorating conditions even from the beginning, and Hanzo was more than a little pleased at the thought of having a brand new set to play with.

“Can’t wait to defeat you with real pieces,” he said, voice a little too fond to be an actual challenge. Hana rolled her eyes in response, earning another small smile on Hanzo’s face.

Once again Hanzo had the acute feeling that their interactions were being watched by a pair of all-too-familiar brown eyes. He wasn’t sure what he did to warrant the attention, his mind jumping back to what Hana had said the other day uncontrollably, about how McCree looked at him. Hanzo had risked a glance at McCree a few moments later, only to find the cowboy staring down at his food instead, face impossibly blank and devoid of any emotion. A face that Hanzo hated to see on the cowboy.

After dinner, Hanzo uncharacteristically allowed himself to be dragged into playing some classic video games with Hana and Lucio with the promise of a Shogi game later. With no assignment going on in the immediate future, everyone hung around for a little while except for McCree, who decided to turn in early tonight. Hanzo wasn’t sure if he was glad about or disappointed by the cowboy’s absence. McCree did look tired around the eyes, but there was also something else Hanzo couldn’t quite place as the cowboy excused himself, finger twitching as he reached his pocket for what Hanzo had known to be his cigarillo case. For a moment, Hanzo almost wanted to follow McCree out the door, but all he ended up doing was quietly watching him leave. Next time, perhaps, he told himself.

When Hanzo and Hana finally got around to setting up the Shogi board at their usual table, the rec room was next to empty again. The new pieces and the wooden board had a pleasant scent when Hanzo had opened the box. Genji had stayed to watch them play for a little while before retiring for the night, as their game stretched out to be what had to be the longest one that Hanzo had ever played against Hana. 

Hana was undoubtedly getting better, smart enough to know when to use a taken piece to make a nearly impossible comeback. Hanzo had stared at the board long and hard before looking up at his young opponent again, who now wore a smug smirk on her face. 

“It was a close game,” the young MEKA pilot said with a yawn, eyes starting to relax and lose focus slightly as the game had ended and no longer required her full attention. Despite not being used to losing in anything, Hanzo was never a sore loser when the opponent was a worthy one--after all, he had taught Hana himself. He eyed the Shogi board one last time before glancing around the rec room, still scattered with leftover drinks and snacks from earlier. 

“Go to sleep,” Hanzo commanded. It was getting rather late already, even for Hana. “I will clean up.”

Hana barely mumbled out a “I can help! I always sleep late anyways” before yawning yet again. “No, it’s late, and you are tired from the flight back today already,” Hanzo reminded her. “You will help next time,” he added reassuringly, when Hana wasn’t looking so convinced. 

In the end, Hanzo had to half push the girl out of the rec room so that she could get to sleep. He quickly packed up the Shogi set and stacked it on a shelf neatly with the older set before starting to clean up the rest of the room. 

It was nearly two in the morning when he had finished, but he still felt a leftover energy from the Shogi game. The common areas of the Watchpoint were silent as everyone had already gone to sleep, which was why Hanzo had found it strange to hear soft noises of things being moved around from the kitchen as he walked past the nearby hallway. 

With a bag of trash to dispose in the kitchen, Hanzo trotted toward the source of the sound. He was surprised (and frankly, a bit startled) to find a slightly disheveled McCree fidgeting with the coffee machine. The man had grumbled a greeting at the sight of Hanzo before turning back to face the coffee machine again.

Hanzo took care of the trash he was holding and washed his hands thoroughly at the sink. He eyed McCree’s back for a few seconds before asking, “Trouble sleeping?” 

“You could say that,” McCree’s back went stiff for a brief moment before he responded, voice a little hoarse, “and the damn machine had to choose this time to stop workin’. Just my luck, I reckon.”

McCree finally turned around fully to face Hanzo, face exasperated and eyes full of restlessness. Hanzo felt like he had no right to be as concerned as he was, but he had also seen the same face in the mirror before and thought he, in some minute way, understood that expression. 

He wasn’t sure what it could be this time, but he knew that they both have their own fair shares of demons to occasionally keep them awake at night. Hanzo wouldn’t be surprised if this was due to another one of his nightmares. Sometimes they talked about it, but most times they didn’t. And that was a while ago, when they still entertained each other’s company regularly. 

McCree clearly didn’t expect Hanzo to stay or even talk to him this time, already eying the exit like he expected the archer to walk out of here at any moment. Instead of doing just that, Hanzo had merely nodded curtly, moving to the other side of the kitchen counter and grabbing a mug from the overhead shelf.

“I’m making tea,” he said slowly, “Can I interest you in some?” It was the next best thing he could offer instead of coffee. It didn’t feel right to leave McCree alone like this. Not that there was going to be much he could do, but Hanzo found himself putting aside his own uneasy feelings and wanting to make an effort anyway, for once.

McCree was silent for a few uncomfortable seconds, like he was too surprised to answer. When Hanzo half turned to look at him, waiting for a response patiently, McCree had finally mumbled out a “yes, please” and a quick “sorry,” presumably for taking this long to answer an all too simple question. The cowboy let out a sigh and then slumped himself in a nearby high kitchen chair while Hanzo made tea quietly, pouring hot water into each mug carefully. He didn’t feel like going through the trouble of using an actual tea pot at this hour and settled for the easiest thing instead.

Soon enough, Hanzo made his way to McCree and set the two mugs on the kitchen island next to them. He took the seat adjacent to McCree’s, carefully avoiding the touch of their knees as he shifted in his seat.

Both sat in silence and sipped on their hojicha as the moment stretched on. It had been a while since they were alone like this. Hanzo was starting to think if McCree had felt as uncomfortable as he did and second guessing his decision to stay when the cowboy finally broke the silence. “You’re up late,” he said.

“Yes,” Hanzo agreed simply, “I was finishing a surprisingly long Shogi match with Miss Song.”

McCree nodded like he had been expecting the answer. “You two’ve become awfully close lately,” he commented casually, almost as an afterthought. 

Hanzo frowned slightly as he took a sip at his tea again. It wasn’t a strange comment, but it also wasn’t what he expected McCree to say. “She is good company,” he said wryly, thinking back to their most recent game, “and certainly quick to pick up on a rather difficult game.” 

When he looked up at McCree, he saw that strangely charged look on his face again, although much more toned down this time. “You know,” McCree said slowly, as if he hadn’t quite decided on the phrasing of his next words, “I think you’ve kinda been avoidin’ me. Did ya finally decide I’m not worth spendin’ your time with?” He had worn a half smile toward the end, clearly meant to pass it off as a joke rather than anything serious, but it had fallen flat entirely given his tone had been the complete opposite. 

Hanzo stilled and winced inwardly. “No, it was nothing like that,” he was quick to deny, didn’t want McCree to keep his incorrect assumption any further. He knew it was unreasonable to have hoped to avoid this particular conversation completely or that McCree wouldn’t have cared enough to ask if he hadn’t done so in the first couple of weeks. 

When Hanzo didn’t say anything else, the cowboy looked at him carefully, clearly waiting for him to continue. And the irony had hit Hanzo just then--as someone who never held his tongue about his opinions, his affection turned out to be the only thing he ever felt the need to conceal.

“Miss Song’s company was unexpected, but one I have grown accustomed to,” Hanzo said at first before pausing to think of his next words again, “I was...am having some issues of my own.” He knew the explanation was too vague, but his face was serious enough that it ought to let McCree know that it at least had some truth. “It was easier to spend some time alone,” Hanzo said, well aware that it was virtually the same excuse he had given Hana the other day. His expression must have been a little more painful than he had wanted to let on, because McCree had then leaned forward, expression shifted to something akin to concern.

“Hey now, you would let me know if I could help, right?” McCree’s voice had softened, eyes focused intently on Hanzo. When Hanzo hesitantly nodded, McCree did something unexpected: He reached out and clasped his hand over Hanzo’s wrist. 

The touch was gentle and seemed almost unintentional—an act of comfort, perhaps, and affirmation; his palm was still overtly hot with having just held the mug of tea, and the warmth had stunned Hanzo speechless for a moment. The archer unconsciously tightened his fingers around his own mug and couldn’t help but glance down at where McCree was still grasping him.

McCree followed Hanzo’s gaze to look down and then huffed, like he had just realized he was overstepping on some unspoken boundary. He quickly retracted his hand and mumbled an apology. Strange how Hanzo felt like the skin on his wrist started to burn the moment McCree’s touch had left him. He had half hoped that the touch remained there forever but was also more than glad to be free of it, because he wasn’t sure if he could stop his heart from jumping out of his own throat otherwise. 

Hanzo schooled his expression to be as neutral as possible as shook his head at McCree’s apology. “Pay no mind,” he reassured him but still continued to feel McCree’s inquiring gaze upon his face, searching and trying to dissect his reaction. At last, the cowboy had nodded. Hanzo let go of the breath he was holding and brought himself to drain the last bit of tea in his mug. 

Hanzo eyed McCree’s empty mug and tried, “I would tell you to go back to sleep, but somehow I doubt you would be able to.”

McCree’s posture relaxed again, his lips easing into a tired smile. “Yeah, you know me,” he said, “Don’t reckon that’s gonna happen for a bit.”

Now that they had both finished their drink, Hanzo knew that he probably should leave, but his unwillingness to let McCree deal with his sleeplessness alone had stubbornly persisted. 

“Would you like to watch something instead?” Hanzo asked despite his better judgement, ignoring the tiny voice that told him how much he actually missed being around McCree, “Perhaps that western we did not finish last time?”

McCree’s smile finally reached his eyes. 

“I’d really like that, partner,” he said quietly. Without his usual cowboy hat, the warmth in McCree’s eyes was plainly visible and a little too much like affection. Hanzo was convinced, for a moment, that he would give anything in exchange to see that every day. 

And that was how Hanzo found himself back in the rec room again for the second time of the night. They sat together on the couch while _The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly_ played on the holo-set. Neither of them could remember exactly how far they had gotten last time, but Hanzo didn’t mind starting over again.

They watched the movie with companionable silence and occasional remarks, although it was hard for Hanzo to focus on the story while his mind could think of nothing but McCree. He wondered if they would ever go back to the way they were before. In spite of his newly discovered feelings for McCree, he had, in fact, missed the cowboy’s easy company. He had missed the time when he had felt nothing but camaraderie toward McCree, his desire now only a cruelness and nothing more. 

Hanzo pretended not to notice when the man started to slump against the corner of the couch and the pile of pillows. He knew McCree had to be tired from his sleeplessness, but he couldn’t help but feel a little pleased about how easily the gunslinger let down his guard around him. 

It wasn’t long until McCree’s breathing became slow and shallow. Hanzo glanced at the sleeping cowboy and waited for a few minutes before he quietly turned off the holovid display. 

McCree was still half sitting up, his face turned away from Hanzo and leaning against the back cushion of the couch. In the dimmest level of the overhead light, Hanzo watched him, allowing himself to take in the sight fully for a few moments undisturbed. McCree looked younger when he slept, expression soft and unguarded. For a moment there, Hanzo forgot about himself being an ex-yakuza assassin, or McCree being a gunslinging vigilante with a criminal past. He couldn’t help but feel that it was a stolen moment that belonged to him and him alone.

An indescribable surge of affection swelled up in his stomach as Hanzo breathed in deeply. He didn’t hate being reminded that he was still capable of feeling it, with a heart that had only known of self-hatred, loneliness, and regret for so long. 

The cowboy didn’t have his serape with him, so Hanzo had grabbed the blanket on the other side of the couch. He carefully covered McCree with it as gently as he could manage to avoid waking him--the cowboy probably deserved as much sleep as he could get. 

Hanzo stretched a corner of the blanket over McCree’s flesh arm, and the next thing he knew, he was already tracing the contour of his arm with his fingers, seized by a desire to touch. Even through the wooly fabric, Hanzo could still feel the warmth emanating from his skin. His fingers lingered for more than a moment and slowly slid down to McCree’s hand as he remembered how it had grasped his wrist earlier. 

He knew he should go now. There was no reason to remain now that McCree was finally able to sleep. He needed to leave. 

He had to leave.

“Good night, Jesse,” he said, voice barely a whisper. 

Hanzo had never used the cowboy’s first name before, not even with himself. He was always McCree, the cowboy, the gunslinger. Despite having heard it many times from others before, the name was still new on his tongue, but there was a certain magic to saying it, like he would love to say it again, and a thousand times over.

Hanzo hesitated for a moment before he stood up to leave, but it was already a moment too late--a hand had reached out to catch his wrist again. Hanzo gasped and looked up to find a pair of sleep-tinged brown eyes gazing back at him with an emotion he couldn’t read.

“What did you say?” McCree asked quietly, his southern accent thick in each drawled out syllable. He looked at Hanzo intently as if he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming, as if Hanzo would disappear right away if he only blinked.

For a second, Hanzo found it impossible to answer. The pressure on his wrist was firm but not anything he couldn’t break away from, but Hanzo couldn’t help but feel like being caught. There was a terrifying moment that he thought McCree would be able to see through him and all his unspoken, secret feelings. But then he reminded himself again that, really, there was nothing strange about the words he had said, and he doubted McCree would remember their conversation about how unusual it was to address friends and acquaintances by their first names--something reserved for only those closest to him. 

So he evened his breathing and answered in feigned nonchalance: “I was only saying ‘goodnight.’ Now that you are awake, perhaps you should consider going back to your quarter.”

McCree sat up a little straighter and eyed him strangely like he was searching for something again, his hand still holding on to Hanzo. “Never heard you say my name like that,” he said a little incredulously in a low voice, completely ignoring the fact that Hanzo had omitted saying his name this time. 

Of course he had heard it the first time around, Hanzo thought dourly and scowled. “I did not mean for you to hear that,” he blurted out defensively before he thought better of it.

“That’s a shame,” McCree said without missing a beat as he shook his head, “‘cause it sounded awfully nice comin’ from you.” He caressed the ridge on Hanzo’s wrist once, hand sliding under Hanzo’s palm, slowly but deliberately. McCree didn’t make the effort of grasping his hand, as if he was waiting for Hanzo to pull away--like he wanted to give Hanzo the chance to pull away.

Hanzo couldn’t stand to look down at their hands, but he also didn’t move.

“It is nothing but a name,” he said as evenly as possible and--as if to prove a point--added after a barely noticeable hesitation, “Jesse.”

“Is it now? Gotta be careful there, Hanzo,” McCree said, eyes glinting dangerously, “say it a few more times like that, it might give a fella the wrong idea.” His tone was light, but he wasn’t really smiling the way he should be, expression all too serious for such blatant flirting.

It wasn’t unlike McCree to tease. It wasn’t even the most outrageously flirtatious thing Hanzo had heard from his mouth, but it certainly was the first time it was directed at _him._

Hanzo swallowed, not giving away anything on his face as he asked, “And what idea would that be?” His heart was almost painful now, as he vehemently tried to suppress the hundreds of feelings bubbling up, and most prominent of them all, an impossible hope. 

“That you might say ‘yes’ if I ask to kiss you now,” McCree said, rendering Hanzo completely speechless. He must be joking. He had to be, Hanzo reasoned with himself as he frantically searched McCree’s face but found no evidence that the man was anything other than serious. 

McCree finally curled his fingers to hold Hanzo’s hand firmly, eyes flicking to Hanzo’s lips as he slowly leaned closer. “Tell me no and I’ll stop,” he said as he paused inches away from Hanzo’s face, almost pleading, voice barely a whisper.

Hanzo’s heartbeat was so loud that the other man surely couldn’t miss it. Now that he was so close, he was able to clearly see, for the first time, the way that McCree’s eyes mirrored the same desire that had been drowning Hanzo’s mind.

Hanzo lifted his other hand to cup McCree’s face, thumb caressing the beard on his jaw. A doubt that had long drawn taut finally broke inaudibly as McCree leaned into his touch. 

“ _Jesse_ ,” he breathed out. Exasperatedly, incredulously, fondly. In all of his heart, Hanzo knew it was a confession, and McCree--no, Jesse--must have also known it too, because that was all he needed to finally close the distance.

No amount of thinking or dreaming had prepared Hanzo for this--Jesse kissed him, possessively and fervently, like he was not afraid to show his heart. The scent of him, faint cigarillo smoke and sandalwood, made Hanzo gape for more. The warmth and softness of his lips were impossibly intoxicating. Hanzo tried to kiss back, no longer able to hold back his long repressed longing to take and taste.

When they finally broke apart to catch their breath, Jesse’s eyes had been glassy with undisguised desire and fascination. He looked into Hanzo’s eyes for a long moment and broke into a grin. If Hanzo hadn’t known better, he would say Jesse looked almost a little shy. 

“Been wanting to do that for ages,” Jesse murmured, fingers stroking Hanzo’s bottom lip gently. _Ages_ , Hanzo repeated in his mind warily, how was that even possible? Ten minutes ago Jesse was still _McCree_ and he could have sworn that the cowboy was not remotely into him, but the mere thought that Jesse had wanted him too had made his head reel from astonishment.

“I find that difficult to believe,” he voiced his doubt at last, voice a little huskier than he had expected, forcing him to clear his own throat right as he finished the sentence. 

“Gotta be honest here, before tonight I never thought I’d ever have a chance. Didn’t wanna say anything at first when you clearly didn’t feel the same. ”

“I did not think Jesse McCree would be deterred by something like that,” Hanzo said, a small smile at his lips as he eyed Jesse’s expression.

“You came here for your brother, so I wasn’t gonna chance making you more uneasy than you already were and end up hiding from me or something,” he smiled ruefully, hand still caressing Hanzo’s face like he was having a hard time to stop, “Clearly that last part didn’t quite work out like I wanted. ” 

Hanzo swallowed at Jesse’s last remark, feeling a little embarrassed about how much time he spent actively avoiding Jesse in the past month, but also surprised at the fact that Jesse clearly cared about him enough not to act on his feelings. He had to admit, had he not realized his feelings for Jesse, Hanzo wasn’t sure he would be able to respond well to his advances. “I suppose I understand your reasoning now, and you were not wrong in thinking that I likely wouldn’t have responded favorably...a month ago, that was.” 

“So, are you gonna tell me what changed? What made you start avoiding me and just me?” Jesse said, and he must have seen the hesitant look on Hanzo’s face because he then added, “Don’t even pretend it was anything else, Hanzo. I ain’t gonna buy it and you know that.” 

Hanzo averted Jesse’s gaze for a moment. He wasn’t quite sure where to start, because despite knowing how Jesse felt, baring his heart through words would never be an easy deed for Hanzo, but he knew his cowboy deserved that much at least. 

“I had a dream about you one night. The next day I told you that I did not recall the specifics, but that was not the case,” he tried, and when he paused, Jesse frowned like he was trying to remember the conversation.

“What did you _really_ dream about then?” Jesse asked, more than a little curious now.

Hanzo sighed inaudibly and looked into Jesse’s eyes again. “That you kissed me, and I could think of very little else ever since,” he answered finally, voice as low as a murmur, “I apologize for avoiding you, but it was the only way to be...under control again, as I wrongly concluded that you did not return my feelings.”

“God, Hanzo, ” Jesse chuckled at his response, eyes wandering hungrily over Hanzo, “sounds to me like we’ve lost some precious time there. Now tell me, was the kiss better than your dream?”

Hanzo finally broke into a smile at that. “I think,” he said in a tantalizing tone, already leaning into Jesse’s space again, “you have to kiss me again to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a little out of hand when I wrote about Hanzo and Genji/Hana playing Shogi haha. I just liked to imagine him having fun :D
> 
> The original idea of this fic came from Mandie's ask "Why do you ship McHanzo?" And I ended up writing a fic to explain it...basically, as ESTP (McCree) and ISTJ (Hanzo) they're not the *best* fit but they certainly work (if they could see past their differences), and I really think they can make each other a better person...a more complete human being by being together. To love and be loved. Don't think I quite got my point across but still would love to hear what you guys think!!


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